


Empedocles

by scullywolf



Series: TXF: Scenes in Between [184]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: (chapter 3 only), Blood, Dana Scully's year-long Pregnancy, F/M, Gen, MSR, Missing Scene, NSFW, minor PTSD mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 00:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14682678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scullywolf/pseuds/scullywolf
Summary: Chapters 1 & 2: There's a lot brewing beneath the surface between Mulder and Doggett, none of it good.Chapter 3: What is the deal with that creepy doll Mulder gives Scully? Also, heyo, rating bump for this chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

_“They’re telling us not to worry. They’re running some tests.”_

Agent Mulder looks just about as comforted by those words as Doggett feels (which is to say, not comforted in the slightest), but there’s nothing more they can do right now except wait. 

It’s still weird as hell, Mulder up and walking around after being dead and buried for months. Not that Doggett has much room to talk; he still doesn’t know what to believe about what may or may not have happened to him in Squamash, but there’s something different and undeniable about seeing with his own eyes what happened with Mulder. 

It’s clear, also, that Mulder still doesn’t trust him, let alone like him. They seemed to come to a tentative understanding after the whole debacle at the FSC, but in the couple of weeks since then, they’ve hardly spoken. What few interactions they have had have been civil at best, if not more than a little chilly. Mulder’s not exactly made himself an easy guy to like. He’s cocky and abrasive, and yeah, AD Skinner has asked Doggett to keep in mind what Mulder’s been through, but at a certain point, he has to wonder how much blame can be put on the trauma and how much is just down to personality. Truth be told, he’s still not convinced the guy deserves the unfailing loyalty of someone as genuinely good-hearted as Agent Scully, but he supposes it’s not really his place to say.

“You gentlemen are going to have to clear the hallway,” pipes up a nurse at the desk behind Mulder. “There are chairs down that way where you can wait. The doctor will let you know when there are updates on your friend’s condition.”

Mulder’s jaw muscle bulges and his eyes narrow, and he looks for all the world like he’s going to make them physically drag him away. Doggett gets it -- he’s worried about Agent Scully, too, and has no intention of leaving until he knows she’s going to be okay -- but causing a big scene is only going to end up getting them both kicked out of the hospital altogether.

He is surprised, then, when Mulder turns on his heel without a word and walks in the direction that the nurse pointed.

Doggett hesitates. A month ago, he would’ve been the one anxiously standing guard over Agent Scully’s room; now he can’t help feeling like an intruder, and it stinks. Technically, he’s still her partner, and even if he weren’t, he’s no less her friend than he was before Mulder came back. He’s got every right to be here, to be worried about her, to want to stay and make sure she’s going to be all right. 

He very much doubts Mulder will see it that way, though, and he’s got no desire to get into another confrontation with the guy. No way in hell is he leaving, but he’ll find someplace else to sit.

***

Walking into the hospital would have set him on edge even if he weren’t scared to death about Scully and the baby. ( _Their_ baby.) But he _is_ scared to death, and between that and the sounds and the smells of this place, the physiological impulse to run away as fast as he can is both undeniable and deeply unhelpful. It’s a flight response held in check by an even stronger unwillingness to leave Scully’s side. Even being this far away from her, just down the hall, makes him anxious.

He leans forward in the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. The phone call from that agent in New Orleans comes to mind, and he seizes it as a momentary source of distraction. 

Agent Reyes said she needed his help on a case that somehow involves Agent Doggett. If she had said almost literally anything else, he would have told her no, but this… this may well be the one thing that could possibly grab his attention.

Mulder doesn’t know what Doggett’s story is, but the man is definitely hiding something; of _that_ he’s certain. It’s more than a little suspicious that Doggett ended up getting to the hospital right behind the ambulance. His supposed explanation requires a hell of a coincidence in timing, and what would he have been dropping off at Scully’s in the middle of the day, anyway? It’s not hard to imagine he was surveilling her apartment instead, keeping tabs on her, or maybe even that he’s been tailing _Mulder_. So if helping Agent Reyes with this case will allow him to find out more about Doggett or where his allegiances lie, it’s worth doing.

But only after the doctors tell him that Scully’s going to be okay.

He glances down the hall toward her room. What if she’s _not_ okay? Before he can stop it, his mind tumbles down a rabbit hole of every possible negative scenario -- Scully pulling through but losing the baby, Scully and the baby both dying, an emergency delivery that she doesn’t survive and leaves him walking out of this hospital a single father. Fuck, he’s barely got a grip on caring for himself right now; how in the hell would he even begin to take care of an infant, all on his own?

He sits up and wipes his damp palms against his thighs, shaking his head and breathing out, hard. He absolutely cannot afford to think like that. She’s going to be okay. She _has_ to be okay.

“Sir?”

Mulder jumps at the nurse’s voice; Jesus, she’s standing right in front of him and he didn’t even see her walk up. He starts to get to his feet.

“What’s happening, is she okay? What did the doctor say?”

The nurse holds out a hand. “They’re still running tests. We don’t know anything yet. I came to ask for your help filling out some forms, since you’re the one who brought her in.”

He wilts back into the chair. “Right, yeah. Okay.”

They’re the same standard intake questions he’s answered a thousand times before. (They really do end up in the hospital way too goddamned often.) Most of Scully’s information is already on file here anyway, so there isn’t much to add, but his heart starts pounding harder as he recounts the symptoms she was having in her apartment and on the ambulance ride. His mouth goes dry recalling how she went quiet and still on the gurney, overwhelmed by the pain or maybe the blood loss; he doesn’t know. God, there was so much blood. In what world is that not a terrible sign?

“We should know more before too long,” the nurse tells him, and he can’t help noticing how she didn’t actually answer the question. “Now, we have a Margaret Scully listed as the emergency contact on file, but we haven’t been able to reach her. Do you know if there’s another number we can try?”

_Used to be_ my _name and number on those forms. Guess she hasn’t updated things since I came back to life. If I hadn’t been with her when this happened, would I even know she was in trouble?_

“Mrs. Scully is probably still on an airplane right now.” He already asked if Scully wanted him to call her mom while they were waiting for the ambulance, and she told him Maggie left this morning to go visit Bill and Tara out in California. “I don’t know when she’ll be available.”

“And there’s no husband?”

“No, but I’m the f--” he starts to say, and then hesitates. Scully has kept the paternity of this baby pretty close to the vest. The Gunmen obviously know, or guessed, but beyond them, he’s not sure who else is even in the loop. Unless, god forbid, something happens to her, it should probably be Scully’s decision whether to make his involvement in all of this a matter of public record.

“I’m her friend,” he finishes lamely. “But please, if you know _anything_ \--”

“As I’ve already told you, I will update you as soon as I have some answers. Okay? Now just sit tight, and I’ll be back with you in a bit.”

He watches her go and resists the urge to get up and pace.

***

Hours pass. 

If there’s any word on Scully’s condition, Doggett hasn’t heard it. He wonders if the nurses have forgotten about him. 

He’s about to get up and go find someone to ask when Mulder comes walking down the hall. Doggett jumps to his feet.

“How is she, did they let you in to see her?”

Mulder looks startled. “Agent Doggett, you… you’re still here.”

“Of course I’m still here.” Doggett frowns. If Mulder wasn’t coming to give him an update, then where the hell is he going? “Have they told you anything?”

“Yeah, they, uh… Doctor Speake said she’s stable, they got the contractions and the bleeding stopped, but they’re still working on figuring out for sure what happened. They wouldn’t let me see her, but… yeah, it seems like she’s gonna be okay, at least for now.”

“Well, that’s good news, right? I mean, ‘stable’ is always better than the alternative.”

“Yeah, I guess so. Listen, I, um, there’s something I need to do. Are you gonna stick around here, or--?”

“I can stay, sure. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

Mulder nods, glancing distractedly over Doggett’s shoulder toward the door. He shifts his weight back and forth a few times, like he might change his mind about leaving. Like he can’t trust Doggett to hold down the fort here for however long it takes him to do what he’s got to do.

Doggett sighs. “Look, Mulder, I’m just as worried about her as you are. I promise I’ll call you if her condition changes in any way, all right?”

For a second it looks like Mulder’s about to argue, but he just nods again instead. He throws a curt, “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” over his shoulder as he continues on down the hall.

It’s a weird feeling, being simultaneously judgemental about the fact that Mulder apparently has more important things to do than wait around at the hospital and also profoundly relieved that he’s getting out of here for a little while. On one hand, it feels like things are back to normal, like Doggett’s no longer shoved to the periphery, his friendship and partnership with Agent Scully treated like an afterthought. On the other hand, “back to normal” also means he’s left picking up the pieces while Mulder’s off somewhere else. 

Grimacing, he shakes his head. That’s unfair, and he knows it. For all he knows, the guy’s gone back to Scully’s place to bring a bag of her things. Doggett saw his face; he wasn’t thrilled about leaving, and he damn sure wasn’t just assuming Doggett would be there to take up the slack. If anything, his leaving is actually a good sign, an indication that he is willing to trust Doggett at least a little.

And Doggett won’t betray that trust. He turns to head toward the nurses’ station; better make sure they know where to find him in case there’s any news.


	2. Chapter 2

_“Sir, immediate family only. You fellas just don't listen. You have to go now.”_

Mulder's been gone for nearly an hour, and all Doggett wanted to do was check on Scully’s condition. When there was no one at the nurses’ desk, he thought he would just pop into her room for a second and see for himself. 

It's hard to see her looking so pale and small in that bed, pregnant belly or no, but at least she's not hooked up to a ventilator. He doesn't know if she's unconscious or just asleep, but she's breathing on her own, so that has to be a good sign.

Still, it’s enough to trigger… whatever the hell that was from his overstressed brain just now. Luke was so pale and small, too.

“What part of ‘you have to go now’ was unclear?”

Great. He’s so wrapped up in his own head that he’s kept on standing here long enough for the nurse to come back.

“I just--”

“Right. Now. I don't care who you work for, if I catch you in here again, I'm calling security.”

He swallows his protest and turns to leave. “I'm going. All right?” In the doorway, though, he pauses. “But can you at least tell me how she's doing? If there’s been any improvement or--”

“Nothing has changed since the last time we spoke. She's stable. She needs to rest. She is in very good hands. And as visiting hours are now over, I suggest you go on home and get some rest, yourself. We will call you or the other gentleman if anything changes.”

Given how _not_ forthcoming she has been this entire afternoon and evening, he very much doubts she will jump right on the phone if Scully were to start going downhill suddenly. And if she does call, and she calls Mulder first, he is not especially confident that Mulder will bother to pass along the message. No, better to stay and keep an eye on the situation, himself.

“Look, if it's all the same to you, I'd really rather just--”

His cell phone trills in his pocket, and from the look the nurse gives him, he may as well have just dumped a bucket of raw sewage in the hallway.

“Sorry, I… excuse me.” He hurries to answer and silence the damned thing, turning and walking quickly up the hall, back toward the waiting area. “John Doggett.”

“John, it's Mike. Do you have a minute?”

Michael Cameron, an old buddy of his, over at the Bureau. Not that he's seen much of him since getting assigned to the X-Files, but they used to grab beers after work and stuff like that, once upon a time. Hell of a time he picks to get back in touch, after months of radio silence.

“Mike, hey. Now's not a great time, actually, I'm kind of in the middle of--”

“This’ll only take a sec. I just thought you'd want to know.”

Doggett sighs. “Know what, Mike?”

“I was just passing by Records downstairs, and I overheard old Spooky down there talking with some other agent about… well, about your boy's case, John.”

He blinks. T _hat can't be right…_

“You're telling me Mulder's at the Hoover Building right now, and he's asking questions about Luke?”

“That’s right.”

“And you're sure it was him?”

“Positive. I took another pass after I heard him talking and poked my head in the room. Couldn’t see the other agent in there, but I definitely saw him. Not sure what’s up with the jeans and leather jacket. Does he even have his badge back after… whatever happened to him?”

And just like that, Doggett’s blood is boiling. _This_ is what was so goddamned important, important enough to bail on Agent Scully while she’s sick? Here he was feeling bad about rushing to judgment, beating himself up over not giving Mulder a fair shake, and all along the guy was running around behind his back, trying to dig up dirt on him? Fox Mulder can go straight to hell. Who the _fuck_ does he think he is?

“Thanks, Mike,” he says through clenched teeth. “I’ll take care of it.”

He jabs the “end” button and barely holds back from hurling the phone at the wall. Now Mulder’s bullshit is going to drag them _both_ away from the hospital. Not for the first time, Doggett finds himself wishing he and Skinner really had found a dead man in that casket. 

He fumes all the way to the office, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white while his thoughts swirl cold and dark.

***

“So, you’ve known Agent Doggett a while, then?” Mulder asks lightly, not looking up from the New Orleans police report.

“Going on four years,” Reyes says. “He’s really one of the good ones, you know?”

“What, uh, what do you mean by that?” He turns a page, and the sinking feeling that’s been building almost since he got here continues to grow.

“Well you know how it is in this line of work. You can tell who’s in it because they care and who’s just interested in climbing the ladder. John probably _could_ run the whole Bureau someday, but not because he stepped all over everyone in his path, trying to get there. He’s a good agent,  _and_ he’s a good man.”

Indeed, it’s looking more and more like Mulder was completely wrong about Agent Doggett. By all appearances, the man really has no hidden agenda or questionable allegiances, and even though Mulder’s not ready to trust him completely, he does have to admit that it’s entirely possible his own insecurities and (okay, fine) jealousy have made him see things that aren’t there.

Which makes him feel doubly guilty about leaving the hospital to look into this case.

There’s a chance he can make things right, though. If Agent Reyes really is on to something about there being a connection between this recent case and that of Luke Doggett’s murder, then helping her catch the guy would be something like a peace offering. Right?

“Oh, hello,” he murmurs, half under his breath. He reaches for the older case file and flips it open, scanning until he finds what he was looking for.

“What? Did you find something?”

He sets the files down next to each other and points, one index finger on each, finally looking up to meet Reyes’s eyes. “Maybe a connection. What are the chances this is the same Bob Harvey in both reports?”


	3. Chapter 3

_“But then that’s the other gift you gave me, Mulder. Courage… to believe. And I hope that’s a gift I can pass on.”_

He can’t deny he hoped she was going to say that the _baby_ was the other gift he’s given her, but he supposes “courage to believe” is pretty good, too.

God, she’s so beautiful. Her smile is just… “radiant” is such a cliche, but he can’t think of a more appropriate word than that. And she’s looking at the doll like she already understands the full weight of its meaning, rather than giving it the polite but quizzical look he expected. He almost decided not to give it to her at all; it’s old, not in the best shape, and if he’s perfectly honest, a little on the creepy side. But sometimes the real beauty of a thing is in its history, and it’s that history that convinced him to go ahead and wrap up the doll and bring it over. He told her it was a family keepsake, but there’s more to it than just that.

“So, my grandmother made that, actually,” he says quietly.

She nods, her gaze still on the doll. “For your mom?”

“For Samantha.”

She looks up then with a soft gasp. “This was Samantha’s?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling at the memory. “When she was, I don’t know, three or four years old, she got that for her birthday, along with a dress just like that one, made from the same fabric.” He gestures at the doll’s dress, then chuckles. “She loved it, carried this doll everywhere she went for a full year. I remember her getting so angry with my mother for not letting her wear the dress every single day, so she could match. God forbid Mom try to wash the thing once in a while.”

Scully is hanging on his every word, her eyes shining with emotion. Is it even possible to love her more than he does in this moment?

“Anyway, I, um… I obviously don’t have a lot to, to contribute, as far as extended family goes, but…” He shrugs, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. 

“Oh, Mulder.” 

She reaches for his shoulder, and he leans carefully over to let her hug him, one-armed. The box, awkwardly perched on her lap between them, tilts and starts to fall; he moves it to the coffee table and wraps both arms around her, cradling gently, the hospital visit all too fresh in his mind.

“Thank you,” she whispers, then presses her lips to his temple. “I can’t tell you what it means to me that you’d share this with me.”

He pulls back enough to kiss her properly, one hand still at her waist and the other coming up to caress her cheek. He gives a hum of surprise when she deepens the kiss, threading her fingers through his hair. It’s almost embarrassing how readily his body responds, zero to sixty faster than a goddamned Ferrari. They can’t… they definitely can’t… it’s way too risky after the abruption… but oh god she’s doing that thing with her tongue, and now she’s tugging on the hair at the back of his neck, and--

“Scully,” he croaks, pulling away.

She looks dazed, her breath coming as fast as his. “Sorry. I’m sorry, I… I got a little carried away.”

“Believe me, I am _not_ complaining.” 

Indeed, it’s all he can do to not lean forward and let her keep on getting just as carried away as she wants. But he can’t risk something happening to her or the baby because they let their hormones get the better of them. He needs to do something to defuse the tension. 

He clears his throat. “That is, as long as you weren’t pretending I’m the pizza man, instead.”

“Oh my God, Mulder, will you shut up about the pizza man?” she says, rolling her eyes, but she also huffs a little laugh, which is precisely what he was going for. Kill the mood, but don’t make her upset.

“Okay, okay,” he says, hands raised in mock surrender. “I just had to check.”

The doll is still on her lap, and he moves it gently to the box on the table, then takes both her hands and brings them to his lips. “Also if we didn’t stop, I was absolutely going to come in my jeans,” he murmurs against her knuckles.

 _This_ earns him a full-throated guffaw, and she shakes her head. “Mulder…”

“I’m serious. Like a damned teenager.” He gasps. “Maybe I have more in common with the pizza man than I realized.”

“Mulder!”

“Sorry, yes. Shutting up now.” He pauses for effect. “Probably.”

There’s an almost predatory gleam in her eye, and oh shit, he’s failed to successfully toe the line between tension-defusing banter and flirting. He goes stock still as she pulls her hands out of his grasp and places one on his chest, pausing there for just a second before starting to let it drift down, tracing his sternum, grazing his abs… and as she just brushes the button on his jeans, he jerks backward, out of her reach.

“Whoa, Scully, Dr. Speake said--”

“Just because I’m not allowed to have an orgasm, doesn’t mean you can’t.”

_Jesus fuck._

“Well _that_ certainly doesn’t seem fair.”

“And what if I don’t give a damn about what’s fair?” Her tone is downright sultry, and it’s completely short-circuiting his brain. He is rapidly losing control of this situation.

“I-I… But…” he stammers, eyes darting from her belly to her face and back again.

“Mulder.” She waits until he’s looking her in the eye, her gaze calm but intense. His own is undoubtedly bordering on frantic. “I am fine. The baby’s fine. If you don’t want this, that’s one thing. But I think you do want it. And so do I. So will you let me? Please?”

Oh, he wants it. He wants it so badly that his body is screaming at him to quit worrying about the potential consequences and just give in. Scully knows what she’s doing, right? She’s a doctor for god’s sake. If she says it’s okay, then he can trust that, can’t he?

His nod is so small he’s not even sure his head actually moved. But he scoots back within range and leans in to kiss her, and her hands are immediately at his waistband. He lifts his hips, helps her shove his pants down, and he is so damned keyed up that it’s almost game over before she even gets her hands on him. 

But then she does, moaning into his mouth as she wraps her fingers around his length, and he shudders. There's only so much she can move, so he gets as close to her as he can, his left side pressed against her right. Every nerve in his body is humming like a plucked string, and as he has basically no stamina to speak of, she’s got him gasping in under a minute. When her other hand reaches down to cup his balls, he’s a goner.

He didn’t realize it was possible to look both smug and tender at the same time, but damn if that isn’t the expression on Scully’s face when he comes out of his post-orgasmic daze.

“Remind me to bring you weird family heirlooms more often,” he says lazily, smiling when she chuckles in response. 


End file.
